


Take the Gamble

by timehopper



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, F/M, Finger Sucking, Gambling, Jealousy, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 02:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15676533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: Sombra is on a mission when she finds McCree on an undercover date. She knows what the consequences of leaving her post are, but life's not much fun without a little risk.





	Take the Gamble

**Author's Note:**

> For the NSFW prompt "jealousy." And because I liked the idea of a casino. ;)

Another night, another mission. This time, it's an arms deal, going down two floors up. Akande is meeting with some very prolific clients, wheeling and dealing like the businessman he was born to be. All in the name of his stupid war.  
  
But it's not like Sombra can judge. She’s getting paid to fight in it, after all.  
  
So she does what's asked of her and sits in the security room alone. The guards that had been on duty are bound and out cold behind her. Security is supposedly pretty tight, but Akande is the kind of guy who doesn’t like to take chances. It’s not like Sombra doesn’t enjoy snooping on people, anyway. There are some high-profile people in the casino tonight, and finding out which ones have crippling gambling addictions or debts they have no hopes of ever repaying might be useful at some point.  
  
And there's one now. She zooms in on some American CEO she recognizes from… somewhere. She can find out later. He’s sitting at a roulette table, rubbing his greedy little hands together like he expects to win big. The ball bounces around the wheel for a few moments, but before it stops, someone taps the man on the shoulder with a very familiar mechanical hand and slides in next to him.  
  
Sombra sits up straight, jaw dropping as she sees McCree, beard trimmed, hat nowhere to be seen, clad in dark slacks and a deep red button-up shirt (and lord help her, he’s got one too many buttons open). He sinks effortlessly into his seat and leans forward, a charming smile in place as he observes the numbers.  
  
Sombra takes a deep breath. She knows she can’t leave her post just because she’s suddenly been overcome by a wave of lust (god does she ever want to tear the rest of those buttons on that damned shirt open). So she sits back, closes her eyes, and tries to pretend the image of his smile isn’t burned into the back of her eyelids.  
  
That lasts all of ten seconds. It's not happening. So she opens her eyes again and tries to look at another screen, in some puss poor attempt to ignore McCree’s presence entirely. And it’s a valiant effort for half a moment before she sees a white-blonde head dip down, whisper in McCree's ear, and kiss his cheek.  
  
Sombra’s blood boils. She knows in the back of her mind that there’s nothing between McCree and Dr. Ziegler, that they’re just here undercover, probably posing as a happy couple, but… seeing them like that, with McCree flashing that stupid charming smile of his, with Mercy’s hand lingering on his shoulder…  
  
She inhales deeply, counts to three, exhales. It’s just a mission. A mission to stop the arms deal going on upstairs, most likely. And sure enough, when she checks the other screens, she catches sight of a few more of them. Sombra knows she should probably alert Doomfist, but…  
  
The bets are placed at the table again. Mercy puts her hands on McCree’s shoulders and squeezes. When the ball stops, McCree stands up, triumphant. He wraps his arms around Mercy’s waist and lifts her up, spinning her around like she’s the only thing in his fucking world in that moment. And that’s what does it for her: Sombra stands up and heads right for the door. Screw this deal, Doomfist is more than capable of handling his own messes. It won’t matter if she steps away just for a little bit, right?  
  
McCree puts Mercy down and she kisses him on the cheek again. Sombra is out the door before she can even think about it. 

  
\----- 

  
She finds McCree at a poker table, leaning back and watching the faces of his opponents. He chews on the end of his cigar, lips quirked up around it. He’s either pleased with himself or very good at bluffing, and it looks like the people at the table are buying whatever he's trying to sell them. Two of them fold. The hands are revealed and a generous pile of chips goes to McCree. Completely unsurprising.  
  
There’s an empty seat across from McCree and Sombra slides into it. “Deal me in,” she says, and the dealer tosses a few cards her way without even looking her way. She hardly cares, though; her eyes are on McCree, and when he looks up from his hand, his eyes go wide and his composure falters for what’s probably the first time tonight.  
  
Sombra raises an eyebrow and smirks at him. McCree swallows and looks down at his hand, trying to keep himself in check, but there’s no mistaking the way his lips turn upward.  
  
He’s caught on to her challenge.  
  
The dealer finishes his job and sits back, waiting for the cards to be played. Sombra has a shit hand, but winning is hardly the goal here. She raises the bet and plays her cards. McCree does, too. When the cards are revealed, they’ve both lost. But that’s okay. Sombra views this as a win.  
  
McCree stands up from the table. “That’s it from me, then,” he says. “A man’s gotta know when to quit.” His eyes linger on Sombra, and she stands too. Nobody seems to care that they leave the table together, but Sombra’s heart flutters all the same. She keeps an eye out for Mercy.  
  
The good doctor is nowhere in sight. McCree steps closer to Sombra’s side, wraps an arm around her waist, and lowers his head to growl in her ear: “What’re you doin’ here?”  
  
“Same thing as you,” she says, not even bothering to lower her voice. “Or maybe the opposite. Who can say, really?”  
  
McCree’s eyes dart around the room. “So you’re not just here for the gambling, then,” he says.  
  
Sombra smiles. “You know I love a good challenge.” Out of the corner of her eye, she catches sight of that same white-blonde ponytail that got her so riled up in the first place. Mercy stands at the bar, chatting to the man behind the counter as she orders a drink. Sombra points to a table not far off from it. “That one.”  
  
McCree follows her gaze to a blackjack table. There are two seats open, one right next to the other. He gives Sombra a suspicious look but follows her all the same.  
  
They sit down at the table and the game starts. The first round goes by without incident. Neither of them win their bets. The second round goes much the same. But when the third hands are dealt, that’s when Sombra decides to play for real.

It’s McCree’s turn. Sombra shifts in her seat, moving it just the slightest bit closer to the cowboy. She reaches over and puts a hand on his thigh, pointedly not looking at him. His muscles tense beneath her hand, but he doesn’t flinch. There’s nothing on his face at all to suggest he’s anything but cool and collected right now.  
  
Perfect.  
  
“Hit me,” McCree says. The dealer hands him another card. Sombra squeezes his thigh.  
  
McCree lets in a sharp intake of breath, but doesn’t move. He licks his lips, then nods. “Stand.”  
  
Sombra loosens her hold and rubs McCree’s leg slowly.  
  
Her turn comes and goes, and soon it’s a new round. McCree wins a small stack of chips, and as a reward, Sombra’s hand moves inward and upward. Her hand is right between his legs now, fingertips running along the inseam of his slacks. She presses down, thumb running over his crotch, and she’s pleased to feel that McCree's not nearly as unaffected as he’s acting. Sombra herself can’t suppress her grin -- especially not when she sees Mercy making her way over.  
  
“I think I’ll sit this one out,” she says, and gets up from her chair. But instead of walking away from the table, she simply switches seats, shifting over to sit on McCree’s lap. She doesn’t fight the smug grin when she feels his hard-on underneath her, pressing into the cleft of her ass.  
  
Sombra wraps her arms around McCree’s neck and he holds her by the waist to keep her from falling. “What’re you playin’ at?” he mumbles around his cigar, low enough only Sombra can hear. She shifts on his lap and he swallows a groan.  
  
“Just taking a break,” she says innocently, rolling her hips the slightest bit, trying to make it look like she’s just trying to get comfortable. “I'd rather watch you play. What, are you trying to hide from a date or something?”  
  
“Actually--”  
  
But before he can answer properly, a hand is placed on McCree’s shoulder. Angela Ziegler looks down at the two of them with a smile on her face (though there’s nothing happy about it; her poker face isn’t anywhere close to as good as McCree’s).  
  
“And who might you be?” Mercy asks, voice high and fake-sweet.  
  
Sombra smiles smugly up at Mercy. “Me? Oh, I’m--”  
  
“Just an old friend,” McCree says quickly, turning that perfect nonplussed smile Mercy’s way. Sombra leans back, pressing her ass down onto McCree’s dick. His breath hitches, but that’s all the tell he gives her. “Nothing for you to worry about.”  
  
“Really,” Mercy deadpans. McCree nods.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, we’re just about done here. Why don’t you go find Lena while you wait?” He raises his eyebrows pointedly. “Make sure she hasn’t drunk herself stupid again. I’ll join you right when I’m done here.”  
  
Getting the message, Mercy sighs, but she doesn’t look particularly pleased. “If you say so.” She doesn’t press any further, but she does leave - though not without throwing one last suspicious (jealous?) look over her shoulder at Sombra.  
  
Mission accomplished.  
  
Sombra returns her attention to the table. The other five people seated there are trying to pretend like they hadn’t seen anything. One of them coughs. The dealer wordlessly shuffles the deck and starts passing out new hands.  
  
McCree presses his lips to Sombra’s ear. “I’m gonna kill you,” he says, and the game begins again.  
  
\-----  
  
They only stay for one more round. It’s all McCree can seem to take -- the more Sombra ground down on him (and she got less and less subtle as the minutes ticked by), the harder it was for McCree to keep his hips still. And by the end of the round, he just flat-out couldn't.  
  
They’d excused themselves right after McCree won another stack of chips. McCree had practically dragged Sombra away and lead her to the nearest restroom. It’s far from classy or elegant, but this just means McCree is beyond desperate now. Just the way she likes him.  
  
And if she were willing to admit it to herself… Sombra’s getting desperate, too.  
  
McCree pulls her into a stall, slams the door shut, and locks it hastily. He shoves Sombra up against it and kisses her fiercely, tongue going straight to her lips. Sombra melts into it, moaning shamelessly into his mouth.  
  
McCree pulls away. His hand reaches under the skirt of Sombra’s dress. Two fingers slide beneath the fabric of her panties. McCree grins against Sombra’s neck, relishing in how wet she already is. His fingers slip between her folds, stroking her and spreading her slick. “Don’t think I didn’t see that look you gave Mercy back there,” he grunts, pressing a finger to Sombra’s clit and rubbing it in a circle. “You knew what we were doing, didn’t you?”  
  
Sombra’s head falls back and she moans, already losing herself to his skilled hands. Her hips jolt and twitch against McCree’s fingers, encouraging him to give her more. “And - and if I did?”  
  
McCree laughs. He nips at Sombra’s earlobe, then traces the rim of her ear with his tongue. She shudders and cries out, and he slaps a hand over her mouth. “You must’ve been real jealous to come out here and pull a stunt like that.”  
  
Sombra whines, half in protest, and half because McCree’s just slipped a finger inside of her. She bucks against it shamelessly.  
  
“Shh, shh,” McCree soothes, but the way he crooks his fingers is anything but soothing. “We don’t wanna be too loud, do we? Don’t want Angie to overhear us…”  
  
The look on McCree’s face is entirely too smug. Sombra wrenches his hand away from her mouth. “Maybe I want her to hear. Maybe I want her to know you’re mine.”  
  
McCree groans, but the grin doesn’t leave his face. He pulls his fingers out of Sombra and she whines at the sudden feeling of emptiness, but she doesn’t have to wait for him for very long: McCree grabs her by the hips and turns her around, putting a hand on her lower back to bend her over. Sombra goes willingly, spreading her legs for him as he lifts her dress and gathers it at her waist.  
  
McCree pulls Sombra’s panties to the side and takes a second to admire her before he unzips his fly and drops his pants. Sombra reaches back to spread herself open for him, and McCree slides into her easily.  
  
Sombra lets out a shaky breath as McCree begins to thrust in and out of her. He sets a quick pace and Sombra matches it eagerly, pushing back against McCree’s thrusts to take him in deeper. She moans loudly every time he moves, unable to control herself, and McCree leans over to growl in her ear.  
  
“Thought I told you to keep quiet,” he snaps. Before Sombra can even think of a coherent answer she feels McCree’s hand come back to her mouth and cover it up. But Sombra is nothing if not defiant, so she kisses his fingers, using her tongue to coax two of them between her lips. She sucks on them hard, greedy and eager to please. The way McCree’s other hand tightens on her hip and digs into her soft skin tells Sombra that what she’s doing is working. She hums around his fingers and McCree moans loudly and uncontrollably.  
  
“Who’s loud now?” Sombra teases, pulling away from the fingers just long enough to get the words out. McCree grunts and shoves them right back in, and Sombra happily starts to suck on them again.  
  
Soon McCree’s pace quickens and becomes less steady and rhythmic. She can feel his breath puffing hot and uneven against her neck and that's when she knows he’s close to the edge. Sombra clenches around him, trying to coax him steadily toward orgasm.  
  
She doesn’t expect it when McCree suddenly changes the angle though, pressing her down further. The noise she makes is somewhere between a sob and a moan, but thankfully whatever it is is muffled by McCree’s fingers in her mouth. She lets them fall from between her lips again, head hanging forward so she can pant, “Please… just a little bit more.”  
  
McCree doesn’t answer -- not verbally, anyway. He keeps thrusting, going impossibly harder, until at last Sombra comes, gushing around him. McCree doesn’t last after that, and he very nearly collapses as he finishes inside her, hips twitching as she spasms around his cock. But he manages to stay up, just long enough to catch his breath and pull out, leaving Sombra dripping wet but completely satisfied.  
  
They take a moment to lean against the stall walls to get their bearings, and when they do, Sombra finally pulls her panties back into place and rearranges her skirt.

“You brat,” McCree says at last, grinning at her through the haze of post-coital bliss. “Distracting me from work like that…”  
  
“You’re one to talk.” Sombra pushes off from the wall and runs a finger down McCree’s chest, stopping at the first button that’s actually done-up. “If I get caught, Doomfist is gonna kill me.”  
  
“Better not get caught then,” McCree answers. He captures Sombra’s lips in a quick but passionate kiss. “After you.”  
  
“Mhm.” Sombra opens the stall door and makes to leave the bathroom, but before she goes, she gives McCree one last look over her shoulder. “Meet me after the mission?”  
  
McCree grins. “Done.”  
  
Sombra sticks around just long enough to watch McCree leave the restroom and walk back to his “date.” She tries not to laugh when Mercy pinches his ear and drags him off to resume the mission, scolding him for running off to get laid when they're busy.  
  
He’s really gonna be in for it later.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and would like to see more, have a chat, or find out how to support me, please check out my twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r) or follow my writing blog [@intim3ate](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com), where I post progress, WIPs, and take requests.
> 
> If you would like to find out how to support me, I have a handy list of links right [here](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r/status/1122210346939244544). Please check it out! I wouldn't be able to do this without people like you supporting me. ♥
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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